


Things You Forget

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Fictober, Fluff, bill scully is an asshole, mulder hits his head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 21:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16167530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Mulder hits his head and gets retrograde amnesia. Scully takes care of him.





	Things You Forget

In the five years she’s known Mulder, he’s hit his head about a thousand times and in just as many ways. So when his head connects with the sidewalk after tackling their suspect to the ground, she winces, but she doesn’t think it’s anything serious. It never it. It’s Mulder and he’s got a hard head (a stubborn one, too). She dashes over to him while the police take the struggling man in custody, cuffing him and reading him his rights. Scully doesn’t care. Her only concern is Mulder who sits there lost, his eyes glazing over in confusion.

“Mulder? Are you okay?” She crouches in front of him and touches the small, gaping wound on his temple. It doesn’t look that bad, she keeps mumbling to herself, and to him, even though she is barely aware of doing it.

“What happened?” He asks, his own hand coming up to his temple, his fingers brushing hers. They’re ice cold. 

“You ran after the suspect,” Scully explains to him softly, motioning over to the police car. “You hit your head. Does it hurt?” She should ask for an ambulance. Mulder is never this quiet, this compliant unless he’s drugged – or seriously hurt. Scully searches for his eyes and when she realizes that he can’t focus on her, she gets really worried.

“What happened?” He asks again and Scully, with a big lump in her throat, wonders the same.

*

It’s not just a concussion this time.

“Retrograde amnesia?” Scully says, her voice full of disbelief, when Mulder’s doctor gives her the news. The young neurologist flicks through the chart nervously; she can’t blame him for that: Mulder’s medical records could fill a whole novel.

“It shouldn’t have any lasting effects. Make sure he gets plenty of rest over the weekend. His memory should return in the next few days. If it doesn’t-”

“If he doesn’t improve, we’ll be back. I’m a medical doctor,” she says and the young man nods enthusiastically, just wanting to get going and see another patient. Scully thanks him for his time and returns to Mulder who sits in his hospital bed, pouting.

“Hey,” she greets him. “How are you feeling?”

“I have a headache,” Mulder replies, sounding as if he wasn’t sure. “What happened, Scully?” He’s asked her about ten times now and no matter how often she explains, he just doesn’t understand.

“You hit your head pretty badly.” He nods slowly, wincing. “Don’t move your head too much. I have some painkillers for you and they’ll hopefully help you sleep.”

“I have to stay here?”

“No,” Scully sighs, almost wishing that they would keep him. “I’m taking you home with me.”

“Oh?” He grins at her, or tries to anyway.

“Don’t get any ideas, Mulder,” Scully warns him and helps him up. He’s still wearing his hospital gown and she gets a nice, long look at his ass. Nothing she hasn’t seen before, but she makes him turn around anyway; this is awkward enough as it is.

“What kind of ideas?” He asks as she helps him with his pants. He takes the garment out of her hands, gets them up and after a moment manages to button them, too. At first she thinks it’s just another of his flirtations, but the look in his eyes says something different. Retrograde amnesia, she reminds herself. What she doesn’t know yet is how far back it goes.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says handing him his shirt. “What is the last thing you remember?” He takes a moment to answer and Scully wonders if maybe he’s not heard her, or has already forgotten her question. He’s concentrating on every button on his shirt, his tongue peeking out between his lips.

“Lunch,” Mulder answers simply, then lifts his head to look at her. His upper lip is caught on his teeth and he looks so lost that Scully has to stop herself from taking him into her arms and holding him close. “We were getting lunch,” he finishes, staring at her as if waiting for her approval. There was no lunch break today, their whole day spent trying to catch the suspected killer.

“Anything else?” She doesn’t want him to worry, but she needs to know what he remembers, where he thinks he is.

“We were talking about the case.”

“What case?”

“The Incanto case,” Mulder says as if it were the only possible answer. The name sounds familiar, but she can’t place it.

“Remind me again what it is about?” She asks as she leads him out of the hospital room. She signs the necessary papers, so used to it that she could do it in her sleep.

“The fat sucking guy, Scully. How can you forget about that?” The pen in her hand comes to a screeching halt; of course she remembers that case. It was years ago, at least two. She turns to him, her eyes wild.

“That’s the last thing you remember?”

“Is that… wrong?”

“Oh Mulder,” Scully sighs, taking his arm.

*

They pick up a few clothes at Mulder’s place and then head over to Scully’s. He falls asleep in the car and startles awake when his head lolls against the window. His breathing is too fast, but relaxes once he turns to her. There’s even the hint of a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry you have to babysit me, Scully.”

“I don’t mind, Mulder,” she says as she unlocks the door. The lights in her apartment are on and her hand lands on her gun immediately. Her mother walks out of the kitchen and that’s when Scully remembers: her brother Bill is in town and their mother thought it would be a good idea to get dinner this Friday night.

“Dana, there you are. We were so worried. And Fox! What a nice surprise.” Maggie ushers them both inside and before Scully can even say a word, her brother appears in her view. He’s holding a bottle of beer, his eyes unreadable. But she doesn’t need to read them; his thin, pressed together lips say it all.

“Hello Mrs. Scully,” Mulder says with a goofy, happy smile. Scully watches him eye Bill; there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but it’s not enough. This Mulder doesn’t know her brother. Yet.

“I’m sorry, mom. Hey, Bill. There was an accident and I completely forgot to call you.”

“An accident? Are you all right?”

“I bet it was his fault,” Bill says, taking a sip from his beer.

“It was,” Mulder says. “I was in an accident,” he repeats the words Scully and the doctor said to him earlier. He sounds like a child, reiterating a concept he can’t quite grasp. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. My name is-”

“Is this a joke?” Bill asks, his voice dark and angry.

“Scully?” Mulder turns to her, his eyes pleading with her.

“Mulder had an accident,” Scully explains, looking at her mother, then over at Bill, who rolls his eyes. Her mother gasps. “He’s got a concussion and a mild form of amnesia.”

“Sure he does,” Bill grumbles. “Forgot all about how you ruined my sister’s life?”

“Bill!” Scully and her mother yell in unison.

“You poor soul,” Maggie Scully says and sits him down at the kitchen table, Bill following his every movement. “You’ll feel better as soon as you’ve had some of my famous potato salad.”

*

Mulder is quiet during dinner, only speaks when addressed directly. Bill is quiet, too, grumbles and grunts a lot. Scully tries to keep the conversation with her mother going, but she’s tired and she’s worried about Mulder. Every time she looks at him sitting there, Bill watches her with eagle eyes. She is certain that he is going to explode any second when she notices the change in Mulder. He stops eating, his fork suspended in mid air. His face whitens as his eyes grow huge. Mulder looks at her, his mouth half open. She’s never seen him like this, as if he were having a seizure.

“Excuse me,” Mulder says suddenly, his fork clattering against the china, his chair scraping on the floor. He sprints towards the other end of the apartment and Scully, excusing herself as well and ignoring Bill’s outrageous expression, follows him. She finds him in her bathroom, leaning against the sink, breathing heavily.

“Mulder, what is it? Talk to me. Does your head hurt? Do you-”

“Cancer.”

“What?”

“You. Cancer,” his voice falters. There are tears pooling in his eyes. He’s experiencing it again. All the things they’ve left behind, or tried to, and here he is, having to go through it once more.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she says and he winces; wrong choice of words. “I’m healthy, remember? No, of course you don’t. I am. Yes, I did have cancer. I was sick, but Mulder, I’m not anymore. I got better, I’m healthy.” She wants to beg him to remember, for his brain to catch up more quickly.

“Are you sure?” He touches her head and for a moment she forgets to breathe. His fingers gently tap against her temples, move on, and wander over her forehead. His index fingers stops right there where her tumor used to be. Her skin tingles.

“I am very sure,” she says and gives him a shaky smile. “You saved me.” Scully takes his hand and puts it on her neck, where the chip is. “Feel that?” Mulder’s finger prods gently until he finds it. He nods. “You saved me, Mulder,” she repeats, more quietly this time. “You found the cure for my cancer.” He blinks a few times and doesn’t move his hand away from her. She is surprised, but doesn’t startle, when he touches his forehead to hers. He smells like potatoes, like Mulder and like home. Scully smiles.

“I remember,” he croaks out. “I actually remember. Oh shit, Bill hates me even more now, doesn’t he?”

“You remember everything?” Scully asks without breaking their intimate contact. Her mouth is close to his and she feels his breath on her, is certain he can feel her words on his lips.

“Hmm, I think so. Did I crack my head on a sidewalk?” He asks in disgusted disbelief so that Scully can’t help but chuckle.

“You did. I was worried, Mulder. You were so out of it.”

“I still have a headache,” he admits.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Scully doesn’t want to, but she moves away from him. There are still tears in his eyes, ones he never shed. He’s sporting a smile now, though, lopsided and genuine. Her Mulder. “I should send my mother and brother home so you can get some sleep.”

“Don’t,” Mulder says, almost pleads. “Your mother’s potato salad is amazing, Scully,” he adds as though he were telling her a secret. The corner of her mouth twitches.

“You want to eat potato salad.”

“I do. We can just pretend I got sick and still don’t remember anything, we could-”

“Let’s just eat, Mulder. All right?” He shuts his mouth and nods, still careful not to move his head around too much. “Today was exhausting. I just want to spend some hours with the people I love most in the world.” Scully knows she’s said too much, maybe, can’t be sure that Mulder’s quick thinking has returned along with his memories.

“The people you…,” he mumbles in wonder, but doesn’t finish. She doesn’t need to face him to know he’s smiling.


End file.
